The chaos outside the mental hospital was reaching a fever pitch. The crowd's rage was now being fueled by a live-streamer, broadcasting the spectacle to thousands. Their comments were rolling in fast.
"Psychopaths like her deserve the death penalty!"
"I don’t care if she’s crazy—she’s a murderer!"
"Support the death penalty! No mercy for monsters!"
I stood there, the accusations flying like daggers. My hands clenched into fists, my body trembling—not from fear, but from frustration. I had planned for this life. I had hidden myself in the mental hospital, carefully laying low, yet here I was again, cornered.
"I don’t understand," I muttered, glaring at the sea of faces around me. "What have I done to deserve this? I was hiding in the mental hospital and you still want to give me the death penalty?"
The school principal stepped forward, his finger pointed at me like a blade. "What did you do?" he shouted, his voice dripping with fury. "You blew up the school’s chemistry lab! My son died in that explosion and now you have the audacity to act innocent?"
I took a deep breath, my mind spinning. Unlike in my past life, this time, I had prepared. My lips curved into a calm, almost mocking smile. "The chemistry lab blew up? Really? When did that happen? How come I don’t know anything about it?"
The crowd erupted again, but before anyone could grab me, I slipped behind Dr. Richard, using him as my shield. My mother, red-faced with anger, lunged forward, her voice cracking as she screamed, "Don’t you dare pretend, Jennie! How could I have raised a child like you? Last night, after school, you snuck into the lab and set off that bomb. My poor child, the school director’s son, was in the next room. He died instantly when the roof collapsed!"
And then, as if rehearsed, Agnes stepped in with tears streaming down her face, her voice trembling with manufactured sorrow. "Jennie, stop lying. I saw you sneaking around the lab yesterday. I didn’t know what you were doing, but now it all makes sense."
I turned my gaze to Agnes, my so-called best friend, my betrayer. Her crocodile tears were almost impressive. Almost.
Before I could respond, the hospital’s security guard, a middle-aged man with a stern face, spoke up, visibly agitated. "Excuse me, but this is nonsense!" he barked, his voice booming over the crowd. "I was on duty last night. Are you saying I neglected my duties and let a patient escape?"
The school security guard quickly countered, holding up a USB drive like it was a golden ticket. "Don’t start blaming each other. I brought the school’s surveillance footage! Let’s see what it shows."
***
Everyone huddled around as the footage was played. My blood ran cold as I saw myself on the screen, dressed in my school uniform, creeping around the chemistry lab. I was throwing something—likely the bomb—into the lab before bolting out the door. Seconds later, the screen flashed white with the explosion and the video cut to black.
The clarity of the footage was shocking. Even the small mole on my left cheek was perfectly visible. The crowd gasped and the comments from the live broadcast poured in.
"Caught red-handed! I knew it was her!"
"Even mental hospitals can’t stop murderers!"
"This girl deserves the worst punishment. No excuses!"
My fists tightened at my sides. If I hadn’t been reborn, I might have panicked right then. But this wasn’t my first life. I had learned to think on my feet.
I raised my voice, cutting through the noise. "Wait just a minute! Police officers, isn’t there surveillance in the mental hospital too? Let’s compare the footage."
The hospital security guard immediately nodded. "Yes! The cameras here work perfectly. They were replaced just last week!" He quickly accessed the recordings and began to play them.
***
On the hospital’s CCTV footage, there I was. At the exact time of the explosion, I was sitting in the courtyard, talking to a young boy with autism. The timestamp was clear, the footage unedited. The scene was mundane—me offering the boy a piece of candy, him nodding shyly in return. There was no doubt it was me.
The crowd fell silent. The air grew heavy as everyone processed what they had just seen. Two identical versions of me, caught on camera at the same time but in completely different places.
The live-stream chat erupted with confusion.
"What the hell is going on?!"
"Twins? Doppelgänger? This is giving me chills."
"That’s impossible! Even twins wouldn’t have identical moles in the same place."
I watched the disbelief ripple through the mob. My mother’s face had gone pale and even Agnes’s confident facade was beginning to crack.
***
The hospital security guard folded his arms, glaring at the school principal. "So, what now? Are you saying our footage is fake? If you’re accusing my hospital of negligence, you better have more proof than this nonsense."
The police officer in charge frowned, scratching his chin as he compared the two videos. "This… this doesn’t add up," he admitted. "We’ll need to investigate further."
I seized the moment, stepping forward. My voice was steady, but loud enough to be heard by everyone. "Exactly. Something’s not right here. I’ve been in the hospital this entire time, as the footage clearly shows. Someone is framing me."
Agnes opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. For the first time, I saw fear in her eyes.
Good, I thought. You should be scared.
***
The crowd slowly began to disperse, their anger replaced by confusion. The live stream ended abruptly, the audience left with more questions than answers. The school principal shot me one last glare before leaving with the police, dragging my mother and Agnes along with him.
Dr. Richard placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "That was close," he said softly. "But this isn’t over. Be careful, Jennie."
I nodded, determination burning in my chest. Someone had gone to great lengths to ruin me, but they’d underestimated me.
Whoever it was, they had made one fatal mistake: they thought I was still the same person from my past life.
But I wasn’t.
And I would uncover the truth—no matter what it took.
